


Paradise Forgotten

by Writing_is_THORapy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mindbreak, Mindwiping, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_is_THORapy/pseuds/Writing_is_THORapy
Summary: There is a doll in the cell next to Vader's.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79
Collections: New SW Canon Server Works





	Paradise Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> So over on the New SW Canon Server (a _fantastic_ place to be) it's supposed to be Fluff Day 2.0.
> 
> Whoops.

There is a doll in the cell next to his.

Vader thinks it (he?) looks familiar, with grey-blue eyes and auburn hair, but he finds himself unable to place _where_ and _why_. 

He doesn’t think the doll was there before, but he isn’t really sure. His memory is spotty at best.

~~ He has no idea what he’s lost. ~~

He’s tried talking to the doll before; ~~it can get rather lone~~ — _no_ he is not supposed to feel such things. He is _Darth Vader_ , Dark Lord of the Sith, the Emperor’s fearsome shadow, ~~a slave, a mass-murderer, the Emperor’s attack dog.~~

Vader barely remembers his own past, barely recalls the day prior other than the blood that stained his hands and clothes and the _screams_ he either revels in or recoils from. 

He fulfills his purpose and follows orders, just like all good ~~s oldiers~~ ~~slaves~~ Sith do. 

* * *

His Master sometimes has him test the doll’s reflexes or pain reactions. Vader isn’t sure why. 

“Do you know who this is?” His Master asks him one day.

Vader looks at the doll, _really_ looks at him, trying to recall something that simply isn’t there. Sith-yellow meets glassy and vacant grey-blue. 

“No, Master.”

“This is the man that took your wife and child.”

Vader vaguely remembers the soul-piercing _loss_ and _pain_ from that day, how he collapsed on the floor and the ground seemed to shatter beneath him.

He also remembers her smile.

Out of all of his memories, he thinks that one is his favorite. ~~He hopes he never forgets.~~

His Master has never lied to him. ~~At least he doesn’t remember his Master ever lying to him.~~

So this broken man—this _doll_ —that now stands across from him, completely still but one gust of wind away from toppling like a tree, is the man that took them?

This is the ma—no, the _creature_ —that stole his love, his beacon of light, his angel? 

~~He~~ It took _everything_ from him.

He feels the rage and hate and pain expand and boil in his chest, demanding to be freed. 

His attacks are executed with all the pent-up fire and fury that has burned within him. 

Vader shows no mercy, for none was shown to him. 

* * *

Vader dreams.

He dreams of being happy, of smiling faces. He dreams of loving and being loved in return. 

He dreams of russet skin and gangly limbs ~~he taught her how to fight, how to kill.~~

Of blonde hair and smiles hidden in amber eyes ~~he fought alongside him; they saved each other more times than he can count.~~

Of long-suffering, affectionate smiles and witty banter ~~he was his best friend and brother and never gave up on him even when he gave up on himself.~~

And of brown hair and small, soft hands ~~he loved her and she loved him and is this what it is like to feel free?~~

He feels _alive_. He feels _whole_.

He does not remember when he wakes.

* * *

Time passes and the blood drip, drip, drips from the bodies he slaughters ~~he's lost count of how many~~.

Vader's hands are forever stained with his sins, forever marred with callouses formed in violence. 

He can't remember the last time he used his hands for something good.

* * *

There is one moment—one, single moment—in which he remembers.

He remembers a steady, guiding hand and a sardonic, kind smile. 

He remembers who he was so, so, long ago. 

“Obi-Wan…” he says, his voice at a near-whisper. ~~_I’m sorry_ , he doesn’t say. ~~

~~The doll~~ Obi-Wan slowly turns his head. 

His eyes, his grey-blue, comfortingly familiar eyes are clear. 

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan replies, voice tinged with disbelief. ~~_I forgive you_ , he doesn’t say. ~~

As if they are of one mind, both Master and Padawan crawl towards the barred barrier separating the two cells.

Obi-Wan reaches out a hand in between one of the slim spaces. 

Anakin grabs on and doesn’t let go.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning holding the doll’s hand and is unsure why. 

Vader lets go.

* * *

Vader’s favorite memory is—

It is—

Did he even have a favorite memory?

What is he even trying to remember?

* * *

There is a doll in the cell next to his.

It’s always been there.

~~He has lost nothing, for he never _had_ anything to lose. ~~

He is _Darth Vader_ , Dark Lord of the Sith, the Emperor’s fearsome shadow. 

It’s always been this way.

Vader has no past; he is simply a tool for destruction.

He fulfills his purpose and follows orders, just like all good Sith do.

* * *

Darth Sidious has many treasures— Holocrons, ancient texts, and other such artifacts.

But out of all his prized possessions, the ones he covets the most are his two dolls.

Once, they were legendary. Two halves of a tenacious, unyielding whole.

Now they sit, their weight divided between each other and the wall behind them. Their eyes are glassy and emotionless.

_Dead_.

Jittery fidgeting is stilled. Exasperated sighs are no longer uttered, for there is no reason for them to exist. 

The fearsome Team, broken at his feet.

Sidious smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and/or comments are always greatly appreciated and really make my day!
> 
> Be sure to check out my [Tumblr](https://writing-is-thorapy.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
